From the Ashes
by zara2148
Summary: Unable to die, the monster returns to Victor's hometown, and finds something he wasn't expecting. A friend, in the form of Ernest Frankenstein.
1. From the Ashes

**From the Ashes**

_It had been hard enough to set the pyre alight, much less find the wood to do so. Finally, though, he had a good-sized fire going._

_He lay there among the flames, waiting for the end to come and for the sweet embrace of death to claim him._

_But all he felt was a mild discomfort. Fire, it seemed, could not harm him._

_A howl of anguish escaped him. Not only was he doomed to live his life alone, he wasn't even granted the mercy of ending it…_

* * *

Wandering aimlessly, the monster glanced at the town's buildings around him.

It was a small town. A peaceful town.

And the town his creator had once called home.

_But it'll never be _**your**_ home_, a traitorous part of his mind whispered. _And you know it._

Yet he had been drawn here, like a moth to the flame. Why?

_Because you have nowhere else to go._

"STOP! THIEF!"

Startled out of his thoughts, the monster turned and watched as a boy raced around the corner, carrying a loaf of bread. A fat baker followed after, falling behind the boy with each step.

It looked as if the boy was about to make a clean getaway. But he made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder, and therefore failed to notice the bump in the road…

The monster winced as the boy tripped, sprawling on the ground. The baker caught up to him, and pulled him up by the scruff of his neck.

"Now you're going to get it, you little –"

"Is there a problem here?"

The baker gulped nervously as the monster approached him. Though the cloak he wore concealed his more repulsive features, it could not hide his massive stature.

The monster stopped in front of him. "Well?"

Nervously, the baker stuttered, "T-this whelp s-stole a loaf of bread from me."

Said 'whelp' had ducked behind the monster, desperately clutching the loaf of bread. He looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks.

The monster failed to understand why the baker couldn't see that the boy needed the bread more than he did. But the monster did know how to solve it.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out a handful of coins. "I pray that this will be enough?"

Greedily, the baker snatched up the coins. "It'll do," he said as he walked away, the boy forgotten.

The monster made a move to walk away as well, but a small voice stopped him.

"Thank you."

Unaccustomed to gratitude, the monster turned back to look at the boy. The boy returned his gaze, not frightened in the least.

They stood there for a while, just staring at each other. Eventually, the boy remembered the loaf of bread he still had, and broke off a piece before shoveling it in his mouth.

The spell thus broken, the monster recovered his wits enough to ask, "What's your name, boy?"

In between bites of bread, the boy answered, "Ernest, sir. Ernest Frankenstein."

The monster barely concealed his shock. Frankenstein… it couldn't be a coincidence that the boy had the same last name as his creator.

Now that he looked carefully, there was definitely more than a passing resemblance between this boy and his creator. He had to be some sort of relation to the man, without a doubt.

Hmph. Seems that not even death would stop Victor from taunting him. Did the man's obsession know no bounds?

As he finished the bread, Ernest looked up at the monster again. "Excuse me, sir, but I don't believe that I caught your name?"

The monster grunted. "I'm afraid that I don't have one."

"Oh." Though he looked sorrowful for a moment, Ernest cheered almost immediately. "Then I'll just have to give you one, now won't I?" The boy thought for a few moments. "How do you feel about… Adam?"

The monster grunted again in response. Ernest grinned. "Adam it is, then."

Adam, as he was now called, turned and walked away. After a few seconds, Ernest began to follow him.

Adam did nothing to stop him.


	2. Scattered to the Wind

**Scattered to the Wind**

_Ernest was looking at him oddly, a thoughtful look on his face. Pretending not to notice it at first, Adam had ignored it._

_But he could do so no longer. "What is it?!" he asked roughly, though not unkindly._

_The boy jumped, and then looked at his feet sheepishly. "I-I was just wondering what your face looked like. I've never seen you without your cloak." Biting his lip, Ernest looked over at him and asked, "Why is that?"_

_Adam found himself unable to meet that gaze. Glancing away, he softly replied, "Because I need it."_

* * *

Adam pulled his cloak closer to him, trying to prevent the wind from tearing it off his body. Walking beside him was Ernest, doing his best to keep up as the two of them navigated the overcrowded marketplace.

What so many people were doing out on a cold and windy day like this, Adam didn't know. All he knew was that he had lost count of the number of times people had bumped into him.

As if to prove his point, someone crashed into him yet again, knocking the parcels Adam was carrying out of his hands. The offender scurried off, leaving Adam to pick up the parcels himself. "Do you mind giving me a hand here, Ernest?"

No answer. "Ernest?" Looking up, Adam realized that he was nowhere to be seen among the crowd. Adam ran off to search for him, parcels forgotten. "Ernest!"

Eventually, he was rewarded with an answering cry of "Adam!" followed by Ernest tackling him with a hug.

Breaking the hug, Ernest looked up at him…. and froze. Adam, seeing the strange look on his face, quickly realized the cause of it.

His cloak was gone. In his haste to find Ernest, he had failed to notice when it had blown off.

Uncomfortably aware of the stares he was receiving (many of which he wouldn't call friendly), Adam turned back to where Ernest was, about to suggest that they get out of here quickly.

But Ernest wasn't there anymore. Glancing around, Adam concluded that Ernest, frightened by his appearance, had already run off.

He would have expected to feel a slight twinge of anger at this realization, or perhaps some grief over his latest loss.

But the only emotion he was currently capable of feeling was fear. Not for himself, but for Ernest. Before Adam had met him, Ernest had been struggling to get by. Without him, how would Ernest survive?

The villagers looked like they were about to get hostile. Making his exit, Adam tried to rationalize that in a crowd this big Ernest should have no trouble finding someone willing to take him in.

It did nothing to suppress his worry.

He was almost out of town when he heard a small shout. "Wait!"

Even though he didn't think it was intended for him, Adam turned and looked to see who was calling anyway.

Ernest came running up to him. Gasping for breath, he stretched out his arms, holding something familiar.

"I… got… your… cloak… back."

Adam stared. Slowly, he reached out to grab it.

"Thank you." It was said softly, barely above a whisper.

But Ernest heard it just the same. Grinning, the boy failed to suppress a shiver.

Noticing this, Adam chuckled. Wrapping the cloak around the boy's small frame, he said gently, "But I think that right now, you need this more than me."


	3. Dying Embers

**Dying Embers**

_Shoulders slumped, Ernest trudges over to where Adam is waiting. Another search turned up fruitless._

_Not that Adam is surprised. He knows it's pointless, he just hasn't told Ernest that._

_Ernest's eyes are downcast as he mumbles, "He's not here."_

_They leave town not long after, ready to move on to the next one._

_Ernest repeats this ritual at every town they come to. And each time he does, Adam feels a little guiltier._

* * *

Indirectly, he supposed, it could be seen as Victor's fault. Though if Adam wants to be fair, the blame falls squarely on his shoulders.

It had started innocently enough. They were sitting together in companionable silence, Ernest busy stargazing while Adam tended the campfire.

"Do you think I'll ever find him?"

The question threw Adam for a loop. "Who?"

"Victor, my brother."

Adam tried not to sputter.

"I know he's out there somewhere," Ernest was still gazing at the stars. "I just have to have faith that I'll someday find him."

"You won't," Adam said softly, unable to hold the words back any longer. "No matter how hard you look, you'll never find him."

As Ernest finally tore his eyes away from the stars, Adam proceeded to tell him just what had happened to Victor, and the events that led up to it.

Starting with his creation.

* * *

The occasional sniffle was the only disturbance to the quiet night air.

Ernest picked up a rock off the ground, tears silently running down his face as he raised it above his head, as if he was about to throw it.

His intended target gazed placidly back. Adam wasn't going to make a move to stop him.

A tense silence reigned as the two remained in a deadlock, neither of them budging a muscle.

The silence gave when Ernest, choking back a ragged sob, let the rock fall to the ground.

"…why?" he said softly. "Why?" he continued more forcefully. "Tell me! I deserve to know why!"

_Why?..._

Because he had wanted to get back at Victor for abandoning him. Humanity for spurning him. And the world for allowing a monster such as him to exist in the first place.

Because if Victor were to feel the same things he did, then he would no longer be the only one. Wouldn't be alone.

Because it meant he was doing something. And doing something was better than curling up in a corner and doing nothing at all.

_But…_

Looking at Ernest, none of those reasons seemed good enough anymore.

"I can't say why I did it. I can only say that I'm sorry that I did."

And knowing that wouldn't be enough to placate Ernest, Adam turned around in an attempt to escape his accusatory stare.

But that didn't mean he couldn't still feel Ernest's gaze on his back.

He said he was sorry. He wasn't foolish enough to ask for forgiveness.

* * *

A cold silence was the only greeting Ernest offered him the next morning.

* * *

Ernest had not eaten a thing all day.

Concerned, Adam slowly approached where Ernest was brooding. Setting down a loaf of bread, he quickly retreated.

It was only when Adam turned away that Ernest slowly took a bite and chewed it, staring thoughtfully at the loaf of bread.

Within a few minutes, the bread was gone. And Adam is left to wonder if the only reason Ernest hasn't run off yet is because he thinks he needs Adam to survive.

Doesn't he realize it's the other way around?

* * *

It is a week before Ernest speaks.

His face is carefully neutral as he approaches Adam. "Help me built a grave marker for him?"

Adam, for his part, says nothing, daring to only give a tentative nod in response.

* * *

They stand in front of Victor's grave for a while in somber reflection.

Adam is the first to speak. "So… does this mean you've forgiven me?"

"No," Ernest replies, his voice controlled. "But," here a hint of warmth crept into his voice, "I do think I understand you. And that's the first step towards forgiveness."

He sports an unholy grin. "Besides, if it's true that my brother created you, then doesn't that make you my nephew?"

Adam snorts. "If you think I'm going to call you Uncle…"

"I'm not asking you to." There's a pause, before Ernest softly adds, "You're more of a big brother to me anyway."

* * *

Curling up by the campfire, Ernest cheerfully calls out, "Goodnight Adam!"

It is not until Ernest is asleep that Adam, tossing a couple of logs into the fire, whispers, "Goodnight little brother."

**

* * *

**

AN: I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to read this through to the end. This is the longest fic I've written to date, and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. Please note that it's been a while since I've read the book, so blame any inconsistencies you may find on that.


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